


At Your Command

by Miri1984



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Multi, drabble fics, prompt fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 17:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miri1984/pseuds/Miri1984
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fills from tumblr for my swtor characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t the first time he’d been injured. It wasn’t even the worst she’d hit she’d seen him take. Goddess, there’d been that time on Ord Mantell when he’d nearly lost a hand, Alderaan when he’d been so concussed his right eye wouldn’t focus for days, Belsavis when they… when they…

But yesterday in the armory he’d asked her to be his life mate, and this morning before they’d geared up she’d spent hours reading up on cathar traditions, marriage in particular, and seen exactly what it meant to him to ask her that -- exactly what  _ she  _ meant to him. For the first time in her entire life she was the most important person in the world for someone. For the first time in her entire life she had something that was too precious to lose.

He was mumbling something under his breath in catharese, something she couldn’t make out as she pressed into the wound with hands that were shaking, waiting for Dorne to get there.  _ Hurry up. Hurry up please. _

“I can’t hear you,” she said, leaning in closer. “What are you saying?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said in basic this time. “You’re here.”

She touched his cheek, tried for a smile, wondered how she was going to do this when the very thought of him getting hurt at all was like a vice in her chest. “Always,” she said. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things you said when you were drunk: for Aric and Brill

He’d never seen her drink before. She was leaning on the bar, listing a little to one side, relaxed and tense at the same time. He wasn’t entirely sure how to react to this version of his CO. She’d never let herself go before, never been anything but formal and by the book. That first day on Ord Mantell, nearly a year ago, she’d been the most earnest, straightlaced, recruit he’d ever come across, and it really hadn’t changed. Not that he encouraged officers to relax around him, no, it made the job complicated, but Nar Shadaa seemed to make her tense and when they’d sent 4X off to be tested or whatever it was the republic was going to do with the weird droid she’d suggested a drink with a hitch of hesitation in her voice, then led him unnerringly to a bar in a seedier section of town with all the confidence of a local.

At the bar, the locals looked up, then looked away, the barman set a glass of something suited for twi’lek physiologies (in other words, probably highly toxic to everyone else) in front of Brilleln and greeted her by name. She downed it in one go, motioned for another, and glanced at Aric. He knew from her files that she’d grown up here. Knew she didn’t have any listed kin, figured she was just one more twi’lek uprooted and pushed around like most of her people had been since before he could remember.

They shared a few things in common.

It was four or five drinks later and things were a little fuzzy around the edges for him, but Brilleln didn’t seem to be affected at all, sitting ramrod straight on her stool, drinking as though it was a mission objective.

“You okay, sir?” he asked, finally. They’d talked of inconsequential things, here and there. She’d asked about his family, for his opinion on Dorne, on Garza -- things that a CO might ask in any situation. 

She glanced at him, then back down at her drink. “Nar Shadaa brings back memories,” she said. 

“Not good ones, I take it.”

She shrugged. “Just… memories,” she said again, lifting her hand to order another. Aric didn’t think, but put his hand on hers, stopping the motion before it was completed. The shock of contact was enough to make his heart start to race, and he almost thought she would fight him on it, but she didn’t, she let her hand fall back to the bar and his rested on hers for a second before he pulled it back.

“You’re right,” she said, and he could hear the hint of a slur now, the beginnings of a Nar Shadaa street accent that had been creeping into her voice ever since they landed. “I’ve had enough.”

She stood up and smoothed her hands over her shirt -- strange to see her out of her armor, strange that he couldn’t stop himself from watching the path of her hands -- strange that he could still feel the exact texture of her skin under his fingers.

“Let’s get back to the ship,” he said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things you said when you were afraid, for Lana, Vector and Lissia.

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, breathing the rich scent of the incense that Vector had lit before they had retired. He knew precisely how much was required to make the small space feel something other than cold and clinical, unlike the rest of the ship, which was spotless and efficient, Lissia’s quarters always felt like a home, a place she and Vector had made that was as much a part of them as Vector’s hive, as Lissia’s people.

Lana loved it here. But she could not deny that she also felt out of place.

She had distangled Lissia’s arm from around her waist to sit up, but now that the time had come for her to rise and dress she lingered, looking back at the two of them. Vector, in sleep, lost much of what made him seem alien to others, his hair mussed, the deep black of his eyes hidden. Lissia was careless in sleep, one blue leg escaping the covers, the arm that had until recently been hooked around Lana’s waist creeping back up to her chin. 

They were so beautiful. It was beyond her, how she had come to be here, how she could possibly have been so lucky.

And now she would have to leave. 

Vector’s eyes opened, going from sleep to full consciousness immediately the way only a joiner could manage.

“What is it, Minister?” he asked, softly enough that he did not wake Lissia. “There is a disturbance in your song.”

Fear gripped her heart. That they would move on without her. That she had never truly been welcome. She swallowed it down, giving him a smile that almost certainly did not fool him.

“I love you,” she said softly. “Both of you.”

Vector looked down at Lissia, touched her cheek gently, then back up at Lana. “We love you too,” he said. 

She wished that was enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things you said when you thought I was asleep: For Aric and Brill.

Keeping watch was a dull business, especially when you’ve been trained by experience to fall asleep whenever you’re still enough to do it. Usually with 4X on the team they didn’t have to do these long boring watches anymore -- Yuun was also remarkably good at taking more than his fair share, but tonight it’s just the two of them in a stinkhole on Taris, watching and listening for the telltale hisses of rakghouls or worse in the jungle around them.

He was glad, so kriffing glad that he’d never been stationed here. The eyes of the soldiers they’d seen so far were that special kind of glazed you only get on the worst assignments -- Hoth or Taris -- you saw those words in your orders and felt the stomach drop out of your world and wonder what you’d done to piss brass off so badly that they wanted you dead or forgotten.

Havoc being here was different, and he knew that, but it still felt like a trial, something he wanted to protect Brill from, although the instinct to do that was confusing him.

A lot of things about Brill were confusing him these days, he wasn’t going to lie to himself on that count.

She was sleeping facing away from him, head pillowed on her helmet -- the one part of her uniform that wasn’t standard -- no way to fit lekku underneath that durasteel and command had never managed to work out a good way to protect their twi’lek recruits. Brill said they were used to it, it wasn’t as though her head tails were hair, dead and unable to move out of the way of injury, but he still worried.

He adjusted his rifle, did a quick perimeter check, then came back to sit on a rock in front of her. Watch was nearly over. He’d have to wake her, give her a report, then sleep, but he couldn’t stop looking at her face, at the way her chest rose and fell as she breathed, at the shape of her lips.

“Damn,” he said softly. “I think I’m in trouble, Lieutenant.”

Her eyes opened.

“Trouble, Sergeant?”

He coughed. “Was just about to wake you, sir,” he said. “Been quiet. Just…”

“Just what?”

“Getting tired,” he said, looking away from her.

“Good thing I’m up then,” she said, sitting up and reaching for her cannon. He swallowed.

“Yes sir.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things you said that you thought I didn't hear: Vopenir and Quinn.

Communications with Baras were of a necessity done when most of the crew were asleep or otherwise occupied. An encrypted transmission could be sent at certain times, he had altered the ship’s power signatures to give him a brief window where the power spike would be difficult to detect, and almost impossible to identify. 

The window was passing, but Malavai sat staring at the screen, at Baras’ last communication, unable to move or think.

_ You will only leave my service in death. _

They would be making planetfall on Quesh in two days. He could no longer pretend that his duty was avoidable.

He had to send the communication now, or Baras would assume he intended to disobey his orders. Which would lead to his death. He typed. Hit send.

Rested his head on the screen in front of him as the last of his hope died.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I have no choice, my love.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things you said when you thought I was asleep: For Vopenir and Quinn.

She exhausted herself, and him, in passion, in a session that rivaled those shortly after their marriage. He’d been out of the bacta tank for three days. He’d not slept more than a few minutes at a time since then, and his stamina was suffering, but he would not let her see that, not when she was touching him again, not when he could shut his eyes and feel her lips and hands on his skin and imagine that he deserved this, that he deserved to live after what he had done.

But he could not sleep. He lay on his side, gently running his hand over the curve of her hip, pressing his lips to the tip of her shoulder, struggling to hold back his tears.

“I do not know what to do,” he whispered, “to make this up to you. But I will do it. I promise. I swear it on my life.”

He should not have been surprised, that she was not asleep after all. Perhaps she believed she could not trust him any longer. Perhaps she was right.

She turned and fixed him with her eyes. Reached up and touched his cheek. “Your life may not be enough, Malavai,” she said, and her hand carded through his hair to grip the back of his head and pulled it down so she could press her lips to his forehead. Their soft touch felt like a brand against his skin -- a mark of his betrayal.

His tears fell on the sheets between them, and her embrace gave no comfort.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things you said that you wish you hadn't heard: For Vopenir and Quinn.

Malavai Quinn was always sure to take the time to complete his duties with thoroughness and professionalism, and he prided himself that there were many duties he was able to do as such without a great deal of attention to the task at hand. Inventory was one such duty, and as he catalogued their medical supplies for their next mission, he had time to reflect on his situation with some satisfaction.

The relationship between himself and Lord Baras’ apprentice was progressing very much as he could have anticipated. Vopenir’s interest in him was sustained, and furthered his ability to carry out his duty to his lord. While he had, so far, managed to avoid any physical expression of their connection, it was evident both to himself and the rest of the crew that she favoured him, above all others. 

He had overheard Vette accusing her of being soft. He knew from close observation that she had ceased having sexual relations with anyone else in a casual fashion -- something she had done quite frequently in the first few months of his tenure aboard her ship.

He could, in odd moments of solitary reflection, admit that he was flattered. She was an attractive woman, Quinn never having been overly bothered by the racism so prevalent amongst his peers (efficiency was paramount, he failed to see why humans were praised so much more than aliens when aliens were just as, and sometimes more than, capable). While he was concerned that she wielded power that he had trouble comprehending, if the time came that his lord required he consummate their relationship sexually, he imagined… he imagined it would be an occasion in which he could find a great deal of pleasure.

He avoided dwelling on such thoughts, naturally. Although when she approached him, when she moved close to him, when she addressed him with that low, particular tone to her voice that signaled her interest… it was difficult not to let his imagination provide details and scenarios where he was finally permitted to follow through…

She was distracting, he would be remiss to deny it.

“Credit for your thoughts, Malavai.” Her voice, rich and deep, was so close to his ear that she could feel the soft cool puff of her breath. 

He swallowed, painfully aware that his musings had left him in a state that, should he move at all, she would be equally aware of. “I fear they are too mundane for payment, my lord.”

He felt her lips curve in a smile, and her hand trailed across his shoulders. “I find that difficult to believe,” she said. 

He looked up, and into eyes that were wicked and lit with mischief, her mouth, twisted into a grin that promised pleasure, and more. His breath came short, and he gripped the datapad in his hand so tightly that he suspected its casing would crack.

Would that he was permitted to kiss those lips, slip his arms around that waist, pull her close and show her precisely what was in his mind at this moment.

“I would never lie to you, my lord,” he said instead. She raised an eyebrow at that, her face softening, and Malavai felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. 

Of all the things he might have said… why had he chosen those particular words?

“That is lovely to hear, Malavai,” she said, and her wandering fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, and he shivered. 

Maker help him. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things you said instead of "I love you" for Vopenir and Theron.

There was a buzzing in her ear and she groaned, flopping onto her back in the air duct that had so recently been electrified, her stealth generator was dead now, there was no way she could repair it and the skyfortress was shuddering and groaning so much that it felt like something alive.

“Vopenir. Vopenir do you read. The power spikes are out of control you need to get out of there.”

She crawled a few more metres down the duct, not quite able to find words to respond to Theron’s urgent voice. 

“Please,” he said. “Tell me you’re okay. Tell me you’re on the way out.”

“I’m up,” she said. “I’m running towards the shuttle bay.” She crawled another metre. “Remarkably swiftly.”

He gave a shaky laugh. “I can see you on the tracker,” he said. “You’re lying. You can get up I know it, come on.”

Another metre. “Your implants are feeding you lies,” she said. “I’m there already. You need to get the shuttle out.”

“Not a chance,” he said.

Two more metres. Was it her imagination or was she getting faster?

“The sun reactor is going to devour this entire station, Theron. You need to go now.”

“We are not leaving without you,” he said. “Fifty metres. Come on, Vopenir I know you can do it.”

She took a deep breath. “You’re an idiot,” she said.

“Tell me that to my face.”

She sighed. “If you insist.”

“I do. I absolutely do.”

She dropped down into the shuttle bay, saw him standing on the platform of the shuttle. Found the strength, finally, to run.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duende - unusual power to attract or charm - for Theron & Vopenir

She spotted him at the back of the cantina on Nar Shadaa -- Theron was always more spy like on the Hutt controlled planet -- wearing dark clothes and some sort of ridiculous glasses-come-helmet thing that covered the top of his head so his implants weren’t visible. He’d mumble something about trying to stay inconspicuous and Lana would roll her eyes and Vopenir would ask him again for what happened to make him so nervous about Nar Shadaa and he’d protest that he wasn’t  _ nervous _ no it was just…

In any case it took her a few moments to spot him because he didn’t look right. Her talk with Veroa had gone about as well as expected -- the nautolan didn’t trust her, or the alliance, and wanted assurances of help and equipment that they simply did not have.

She slid into the booth in front of him, her own hood pulled low over her eyes, and he started. “What are you…” She pushed her hood back a little and he relaxed. “Oh. Wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”

“Delightful to see you too, dear,” she said. 

He grinned, and she noticed that he had a plate full of something in front of him that was half eaten. She eyed it with trepidation, and he picked up what looked like the limb of a small bird and waved it in front of her. “Want some?” he asked.

“No,” she said, but couldn’t help peering at it closely. “What is it?”

“Roast something. Local bird. Possibly wingmaw I don’t even know what’s native on this planet any more.”

“You eat wingmaw?”

“Sure, if it’s cooked right.”

“Are you part twi’lek?”

“I’m never going to get over the fact that you can take a lightsaber through the middle and survive but not deal with anything spicier than blue milk.”

She shuddered, then lifted a hand to his mouth, where a little grease had collected in the corner. She smoothed it away with her thumb. “You’re a messy eater,” she said softly. His eyes crinkled at the sides and he turned his head, lightly kissing her fingers. She pulled back her hand, looking at it critically, then sniffing the grease that was still smeared on her thumb. “Yerch,” she said, and he chuckled. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vopenir/Quinn "Dystopia - Am imaginary place of total misery. A metaphor for hell."

The dreams where he succeeded were the worst.

He remembered being thrown aside by the force, when the droids moved to attack, remembered the exact feel of the metal underneath his hands, the taste of the blood in his mouth from where his teeth had cracked together hard enough to break the skin on the inside of his cheeks. Remembered the furious whirlwind of her, the centre of a maelstrom of force energy the likes of which he’d never seen in all the years he’d fought at her side.

He’d watched, unable to move, his heart in his mouth. If she lived -- he would die, he knew this. Either she would kill him or he would die at Baras’ hand, but he could not do otherwise than hope his calculations were wrong.

When the final droid fell she was limping, blood smeared down one arm, her hair wild around her face and her eyes…

They were yellow with force rage. When she yanked him up, one hand raised, the force tight around his throat, he almost wept with relief.

But in his dreams…

In his dreams the droids performed perfectly. In his dreams they cut through her defenses, and she lay, dead, at their feet. In his dreams he delivered his report to Baras, secured his position, sedately continued his march towards the coveted title of Moff.

From those dreams he woke, muffling a sob with his fist, terrified that she would hear.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cataglottism - Kissing with tongue. (For Aric and Brill)

Pick up was routine. They avoided each other’s eyes, as they stowed their gear in the armory, as they let Dorne attend to their injuries “This is interesting, Major, I haven’t seen a bite pattern like this from…”

“... some type of tunnel insect,” Brill said brusquely. “They were a bitch to kill.”

Aric made a noncommittal sound of agreement and Dorne dropped it. She’d always been quicker on the uptake than most grunts and he was glad that her strict adherence to rules was somewhat relaxed when it came to the Major. 

Once they were patched the Major fled the medbay, making her way to her quarters. Aric debated, fiercely, going to her. It wasn’t appropriate. It wasn’t even necessary. He stood in the armory, trying to get his dick to calm the fuck down, when Yuun walked in.

“What is it?”

“This one wishes to give a report to the Major, Captain. On our use of resources to dig you out of…” 

“Give it to me,” Aric said, far too quickly. “I can take it to her now.”

“This one would be grateful.”

Aric took the datapad, his heart hammering so hard in his ribs that he was amazed it hadn’t leapt out of his chest. He had his excuse, now, he could go to her quarters and…

_ Help _ it hadn’t been more than three hours and he was already hard again.

He swallowed. Straightened his jacket. Made his way to Brill’s quarters like someone who had a legitimate reason to be there other than  _ stars I want to hear you come again, Major. _

The door slid open and she was standing there in a tank top and workout shorts and  _ ancestors he was not going to be able to do this. _

She swallowed. Stood aside so he could come in. The door slid shut and he could have sworn something had gone wrong in the calibrations lately because it had never, ever sounded that loud before.

“You have something for me, Captain?” She asked.

“Report from Yuun, sir,” he said, holding out the datapad. She took it. Their hands touched. He did  _ not  _ imagine the gasp that came from her lips.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice choking. 

“Brill,” he said.

“Aric,” she breathed.

“Kriff I want to touch you, I need…”

She didn’t let him finish, pushed him against the door, glued her lips to his. Kissing. Fuck, kissing was difficult he tried to pull his tongue back but she was  _ right there  _ and it was  _ so good  _ and he gripped the back of her head and plunged his tongue into her mouth and...

“Ow. Ow… ow ow…”

She pulled back, the look on her face enough for a trophy in something, he wasn’t sure what. 

Fuck.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, sir,” he stumbled out, “we have… it’s a cathar… we…”

She was giggling. “I know. I  _ know  _ I read up on it I understand I just…” 

“You read up on  _ my tongue?” _

“Fuck…that’s… look Vik told me there was a thing with your… I know there are differences in physiology I’m a fucking medic and...”

“Wait… what did Vik tell you…”

“You really don’t want to know and it was a lie anyway we found that out…”

“I’m going to kill that fucking weequay I…”

She put a hand over his mouth, shaking her head. The moment wasn’t exactly lost, because ancestors he would still definitely be up for whatever they could get away with but her smile, her face, her touch was enough to calm the raging fire in his lower belly. For now.

“I’m sorry, Aric.” Her hands brushed over his mouth, moved to his cheek and his neck. “This is probably a bad idea right now,” she said, softly.

He sighed. “I know. I’m just. Greedy.”

She grinned. “Goddess, so am I,” she said, then turned and put the datapad on her desk. “Thank you for the report, Captain.”

He gave her a textbook salute, and she grinned even harder. “Am I dismissed?”

“We’ll schedule a time for… further discussion, Captain,” she said.

“I’ll look forward to it, sir.”


End file.
